A Deeper Shade of Black
by Viconia2000
Summary: A confrontation on a Tokyo rooftop goes wrong, leaving Misaki in the hands of BK-201. Or is that a good thing?
1. Chapter 1

**A Deeper Shade of Black**

Set sometime in the first series. When? Doesn't matter, really!

Disclaimer: Don't own, not making any money off of this.

* * *

_It happened so fast._

Misaki was used to hearing that phrase from onlookers after the fact, as well as reading it in eyewitness accounts. It was a cliché in police work, a signal that the officer needed to weed out the probable from the confused while working through a crime scenario.

Unfortunately, clichés weren't limited to innocent bystanders. The situation she currently found herself in had played out so many times in the previous months it was also a cliché, at least for members of Section 4.

A contractor was active on the top of a Tokyo skyscraper (what _was_ it about rooftops that attracted contractors, anyway?). A hurried call from Kanami during the rush over revealed that BK-201's star was pulsing brightly. When the squad burst through the door, they interrupted a standoff between BK-201 and two other men Misaki didn't recognize, although she assumed they were also contractors. Members of her squad called out their usual catch phrases (_"Freeze!" _or _"Hands up!"_ or _"You're under arrest!"_, depending) as they sunk into their stances, pistols leveled at whichever man was closest. BK-201, as he often did when lacking an immediate hostage to hide behind, promptly put his hands up. He was deceptive that way, removing himself as a threat so the police would focus on the ones that didn't surrender, gone by the time anyone remembered to cuff him. Scowling, Misaki kept her weapon on him.

The other two men whipped aside their long coats. One displayed a nasty-looking sawed-off shotgun; the other wielded what looked like an old-fashioned tommy gun.

Completely thrown off by the change in the usual confrontation scenario, Misaki froze in place. She had been prepared for electrical storms, explosive bodily fluids, anti-gravity capabilities. Compared to the supernatural powers usually flung around when contractors crossed paths, mere guns were just _mundane_.

When the man with the tommy gun swept a deadly arc of bullets across the rooftop, _mundane _no longer seemed the appropriate word.

She didn't think about dying because (that cliché again, she realized later) there wasn't time to think. Instinct took over, although the instinct of a police officer was different than that of a random passerby, _protect_ rather than _survive_. Misaki first shoved her left hand to the side, driving the heel of her palm against the shoulder of the squad member next to her. He went sprawling before the stream of bullets reached him, more-or-less safe under the barrage. Misaki drew fire by rolling in the other direction, coming up on one knee with her pistol up, knowing even as she did so she was likely to be bisected by the bullets before she could draw a bead on her target.

When she tried to site down the pistol's barrel, however, black swarmed her vision. It felt as if her upper arm was seized (she never imagined being shot would feel the same as being grabbed) before centrifugal force spun her around, sending her nose-first into the concrete wall. Unrelenting pressure on her back forced air from her lungs. She turned her head, wincing as her cheek scraped against the rough wall. Dust from bullets kicked up in front of her face, approaching fast. Before she could flinch, black covered her vision again. Only this time, "black" was shaped like a hand, slapped flat next to her head as the bullets closed in.

Someone was shielding her. Which was _ridiculous;_ stopping bullets with a human body only worked in movies. In real life, especially at close range, projectiles tore through the flesh of multiple people, only deflected if bone was struck. Judging from what she glimpsed before black took over her sight, _this_ ordinance was powerful enough to blow through bones rather than ricochet off.

Some idiot was going to make the papers tomorrow with a tragic tale of good samaritanism gone wrong.

Misaki felt the person over her grunt as the projectiles hit, the _rat-a-tat_ sound flattening in pitch as the bullets struck flesh instead of concrete. The bullets themselves she felt as sharp points of pressure in a path across her shoulders and back as they hit the man covering her, forcing that part of him into her more heavily for a fraction of a second. She was surprised she wasn't in greater pain. What hurt the most was her nose. She scrunched it up, hoping it wasn't broken, and felt her glasses shift unevenly before tilting off her face.

Incredibly, she was still conscious enough to hear the pitch change again as the bullets swept over them and continued to the concrete on the other side.

The view in front of her eyes changed from black to white, a dull ceramic _ping _reverberating in her ears. "Ow," grumbled a low voice. Misaki's eyes rounded in astonishment as she stared at the porcelain rim of a mask, dark strands of hair poking around the mask's edges. Neither an innocent bystander nor one of her men; rather, she had been shielded by the most wanted contractor in the constellations. His chin set heavily on her shoulder as his forehead rested against the wall next to her face. Glancing down, Misaki saw the glint of still-smoking spent bullets gathered at their feet. Several were smashed into compacted cylinders, demonstrating that they _had_ struck something. Somehow, he really _had_ blocked the barrage with his body.

She wondered, just for a second, if immortality rather than electricity was BK-201's true contractor ability. It would explain a few things…

"_Chief!"_ shouted Saito in a panicked voice, and her brain began to function normally again.

Exhaling sharply, Misaki drove her left elbow back as hard as she could. There was a sharper grunt from the man covering her as she struck his sternum, his stance easing just enough for her to spin around. The barrel of her pistol struck under his chin, forcing his head back. One squeeze of the trigger, and she'd blow the top of his head off.

There was no hesitation on her side, only amazing reflexes on his. Fingers wrapped around her wrist, altering the trajectory by the fraction needed. When her own fingers tightened in involuntarily response, the shot scraped past his head. Powder burns marked the bullet's path, a light tracing against the white mask that went from cheek to the corner of his eye. He pressed _just so_, forcing her hand open. Misaki's regulation pistol clattered to the ground.

Although _it happened so fast_ was a cliché in police work, so was _everything happened in slow motion. _Time stopped as they stood frozen in position, Misaki shoved against the wall and smashed against BK-201's chest, his right arm still braced next to her head, his left out to the side as he restrained her weapon hand. Misaki's neck craned painfully back as she tried to look into the face of the man holding her. There was only the featureless mask and a brief glint of reflected light behind the mask's blank eye sockets before BK-201's head turned to the side.

"Look out, he has a hostage!"

_What?_ thought Misaki in astonishment. _Who?_ One of her men, an unlucky civilian? She attempted to free herself, trying to turn BK-201's grasp on her into a judo throw. Hampered because of the limited space available for maneuvering, she could do little more than grab the loose fabric under his collar.

BK-201 slid his hand from her wrist to her arm, dropping it to her waist. His arm looped around her. He tugged up experimentally right as Misaki twined her leg around his, trying to topple him so she could see what was happening and evaluate the hostage situation. What little purchase she obtained evaporated as his arm tightened, pulling her off her feet. His other arm shot out to the side. A low metallic click was followed by a peculiar slithering sound, then she was flying sideways as the mechanism hidden in his sleeve activated. Suddenly the rooftop was sliding away, shouts and yells compressed and distant. A hasty glance over her shoulder showed the other two criminals down, covered by her men, Saito at the roof's edge staring after her in horror. "Don't shoot, you'll hit the hostage! Chief! _Chief!"_

It took an instant to realize Saito meant _her_.

Somehow BK-201 manipulated his wire to bend around a building, and the rooftop could no longer be seen. Still in mid-air he calmly detached the wire and sent out another in a different direction, down and to the side. It felt as if her body paused before acknowledging the sharp change in direction.

BK-201 casually detached that wire as well, shooting out a new one that took them in yet another direction. _He's being random, so they can't track from his last trajectory, _Misaki realized. It was working. She knew Tokyo well, but not from ten stories up. She had no idea where the original building was, and no way to know where they were going.

One thing she _did_ know was that a kidnapping victim had a much slimmer chance of survival once transported away from the scene.

She dropped her head back and snapped it forward with as much force as she could manage, aiming for the soft tissue of his throat. It felt lower, perhaps where his collarbones met, but it still startled him into releasing the wire before he meant to. They were briefly in free-fall as he retracted the wire.

"I'm going to drop you," BK-201 bit out. It sounded more like a warning than a threat. Misaki snarled and tried to strike him again. His hand shifted from her waist to fold over her back, fingers spread against the nape of her neck to force her still. He flipped suddenly, straightening so his legs pointed towards the distant ground, plummeting directly down. Misaki let out a yelp that was _not_ (she told herself) a _scream_. They were far too high up to survive this. She tightened her grip around his shoulders and squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face against his chest. There was a jarring _thud. _The top of her head bumped under his chin, clicking his teeth together forcefully. "_Ow_," he muttered for the second time.

Misaki opened first one eye, and then the other. She was alive. When she looked up to try and see where she was, the white of the mask swam over her. She blinked.

BK-201 knelt on the ground, one arm behind her shoulders with the other underneath her knees, cradling her against his chest.

And _her_ arms were free.

Misaki pulled her elbow back, flattened her hand, and struck him as hard as she could in the middle of his chest. BK-201 went sprawling. She scrambled off him, hand instinctively grasping for her gun, only to come up empty-handed as her fingertips brushed an empty holster. Sinking into a defensive stance, she put her elbows out and her hands in front of her, ready to fend him off as best she could.

Grimly, Misaki acknowledged the futility. Even so, she wasn't going down without a fight. She cast determined glances to either side, trying to see the terrain. A park, she thought, dark and shrubby, city lights an unhelpful, distant glow that cast no illumination. She could discern nothing other than fuzzy outlines and deeper shades of black.

BK-201 propped himself up on his elbows. The mask stared up at her (or so it seemed). It was the most distinct thing in this dark place. After a long pause, he rose smoothly to his feet. Was he leaning in her direction?

"Stay back," Misaki warned.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture, his posture curiously defensive. Something in the way he stood sparked a synapse in the back of her brain. Then his hands dropped, the black fabric of his coat settled around him, and what-ever-it-was vaporized as he became one with the dark. The expressionless white mask appeared to float in midair.

It was an eerie effect, especially without her glasses.

Refusing to be intimidated, Misaki went into full interrogation mode. "What was that all about?" she demanded. "Who were those men?"

His voice was pitched unnaturally low, timbre further disguised by the smothering mask. "Emissaries from a rival, with an offer. They weren't contractors. However, they saw me protect you, which means they may try to convince me by threatening you."

Misaki's eyes narrowed, partially to help her think, mostly a squint to try and pick up something from his body language that could offer a clue as to his mood and intent. It would help if she could actually _see_ some part of his body… "They don't know how contractors work, then. There's no rational reason for you to protect me."

"No," agreed BK-201, "which means they probably assume an _irrational_ one exists." The floating white mask skewed to one side. Although intellectually Misaki knew the man wearing it merely tilted his head, it was still a creepy sight. "By now whoever was observing the fight knows who you are, where you work, and probably has developed a working hypothesis as to why your unit has been so ineffectual at capturing me over the past year."

Misaki's scowl deepened. BK-201's continued freedom was hardly _her_ fault, or the fault of her men. Preternatural powers gave him a distinct (and unfair) advantage. The rest of his comment she dismissed with a snort. "They'll think I'm having an affair with you? That's absurd. Anyone who knows me knows I don't have time to date, let alone carry on a clandestine affair with the most wanted contractor in Tokyo."

The mask skewed in the other direction. "Or perhaps they would hypothesize you don't have time for a social life _because_ you're carrying on a clandestine affair. I've heard they can be time-consuming."

BK-201 was passing judgment on her personal life? _That_ stung. "I have a social life!" Misaki said indignantly. "I go to lunch with my men, and I go to the mall with Kanami, and – " she started to mention Li-kun before catching herself, realizing she sounded pathetic. Besides, helping Li-kun pick out underwear for another woman didn't really fit neatly under "evidence of acceptable social activities."

BK-201 chuckled, the sound muffled behind the mask.

Misaki lost her temper. She closed the gap between then, hands reaching for the edge of the mask. He grabbed her by the wrist, grip vice-like rather than painful. "No peeking."

Misaki glared at the gloved fingers, so wide they encompassed nearly half of her forearm. There was a pale glimmer of skin where his coat slid down his arm. Staring at the thin strip of flesh instead of the disorienting mask made him more solid, less ephemeral. "I'm tired of holding a conversation with a mask!"

"It's for your own protection," he said unexpectedly. "People who associate my designation with a face end up dead."

"According to you, your employer's rival thinks I've seen considerably more than your face!"

"True. A shame to waste that, isn't it?"

"What–?" she started before she was spun around. For the second time that night her back pressed against his front. He kept his grip on her wrist, twisting her arm behind her waist to restrict her movements. It wasn't painful (at least, not yet). There was a flash of white by her shoulder before something pushed against her stomach. Looking down, she was startled to see the mask staring up at her. _How did he do that? _she wondered before squinting enough to visually trace the fingertip-shaped shadows at the mask's edges.

His mask was off.

_His mask was off._

The heel of his left hand was pressed into her stomach to hold her still, the mask staring up at her as he held it scissored between his fingers, which meant all she had to do was tilt her chin up and roll her eyes back and _she would see him._

She took in a calming breath to steady her nerves. Before she could do more, however, his hair brushed against the side of her face. Warm breath washed over her neck, a cool nose nudged her jaw.

"What are you doing?" demanded Misaki. Her voice came out strangely husky, not the high-pitched squeak she expected.

"Hmmm?" His hum was noncommittal, although Misaki thought _what do you _think _I'm doing?_ was somehow encoded into the single syllable.

She really should be panicking, fighting, screaming her lungs out. Instead her muscles were slowly relaxing, melting her into the male body supporting her weight. "Contractors aren't supposed to –"

"Aren't supposed to what? Feel?" The hand on her stomach flexed to push her more firmly against him, making Misaki very aware that whatever else BK-201 was feeling, _lust _was high on the list. "We've been playing this game for so long. Aren't you tired of it?" His voice was calm, composed, _logical_. "Enough chasing. I'll meet with you, Section-Chief Misaki Kirihara."

Misaki desperately tried to grasp her quickly fading common sense. "You'll give yourself up?"

An amused chuckle was smothered against her neck. She shuddered.

"If you want to call it that, that's fine with me," he murmured. "I'll surrender to _you,_ Section-Chief Misaki Kirihara. There are a few rules. Only at night. Only in the dark. None of your friends around. If they are, I'll know." His breath ghosted against her neck, the rhythm calm and steady. "I won't answer any questions. I won't ask any questions. Other than that, I'll do whatever you want."

Only a contractor could propose an illicit tryst between enemies in a manner that made it appear _rational_.

_Crazy_, she thought. _He's a contractor. This is impossible. This would be meaningless to him. It would be meaningless to _me_. It's crazy._

His mouth touched her skin, just above the so-stiff collar of her uniform. "Take a step outside reality, Section-Chief Misaki Kirihara."

"_Yes,"_ she breathed.


	2. Chapter 2

A Deeper Shade of Black

Set sometime in the first series. When? Doesn't matter, really!

Disclaimer: Don't own, not making any money off of this.

* * *

Misaki spent most of her time over the next week being debriefed.

Because being _interrogated_ was what happened to suspects, and no one suspected her of anything.

Or so her boss repeatedly assured her.

"You can understand our concern," Yoshimitsu Hourai said to her after she objected to going over the same thing _again_. "You were missing for nearly an hour before being found unconscious. We need to make sure nothing happened."

_We need to know that your memory wasn't altered, that you aren't a doll implanted with Chief Kirihara's memory, that the criminal cartel currently researching you is misinformed about your relationship with BK-201._ He meant all that and more. One of Section 3's not-interrogators brought up her "history" with November 11 (as if she _had_ a history with November 11) as evidence her loyalties were questionable when it came to contractors. "The last I heard," Misaki responded coldly, "Agent Simon is our liaison with MI-6, which makes him our ally. Is there something _you_ aren't telling _me_?"

The interrogator was reduced to sputtering incoherence as the other members of Section 3 present snickered. Shortly thereafter, she was finally released to regular duty.

Returning to her offices at Section 4 was a mixed blessing. Although she was happy to be back, she discovered that Saito and Kouno shared leadership responsibilities in her absence, which meant nothing was accomplished. What routine paperwork did get done was misfiled. Within five minutes of her arrival, Misaki was reading both of them the riot act. The two beamed in response and announced they were taking her to breakfast to celebrate her return.

_(I go to lunch with my men _Misaki had offered as evidence that she _had_ a social life.)

Stung by the memory, Misaki fully intended to turn them down. Her stomach chose that moment to rumble. Section 3 wasn't known for their catering, and after a week of all-day grillings (not the barbequed kind of grilling, unfortunately), her appetite was on its own rampage. Reluctantly Misaki let her desire for food overrule her common sense.

Being overruled seemed to be happening to her common sense a lot lately, she ruefully acknowledged.

The restaurant the two men wanted to go to was within walking distance. On their way there, Misaki mentally went over the last few days since BK-201 hopped off the rooftop with her in tow.

She _had _told the Section 3 interrogators everything up to BK-201's sardonic comment that the cartel trying to enlist his services would likely target her as a way to get to him. If the rumors of increased underground chatter about her proved true, then BK-201 had to be acknowledged as a master manipulator. Police informants reported that the cartel wasn't looking for anything especially sordid; rather, they were gathering background information about her. The obvious and logical conclusion was what the powers-that-be in the police force eventually went with, that the notorious contractor was indeed using her as a distraction, and that his diversion was proving successful.

Oh, if they only knew. He had distracted her, all right. Perhaps his true contractor ability involved pheromones? Her behavior was so far out of character that recalling it felt like watching a play, one that featured someone not herself as the female lead. Misaki wasn't a woman who was seduced by atmosphere or enticed by dangerous men, yet he hardly touched her and she melted all over him. It was as if her body recognized him on some primal level, and her mind simply shut down.

In that case, her body needed a refresher course on whom to trust. Waking up on a park bench with Saito pinching her cheeks to bring her around was the stuff of nightmares. In his defense, her subordinate claimed that his first impulse was to slap her awake, but _that_ would have been inappropriate.

BK-201 evidently used a low-level electrical current to knock her out the second after she said _yes_ to him. It wasn't painless. The most immediate effect was that her eyes were so dry the simple act of blinking felt as if she was rubbing sandpaper onto her irises. The next day she had a killer headache, the like of which she hadn't experienced since her one-and-only bender in college. It took nearly an entire bottle of high-end conditioner to curb the static electricity in her hair. All in all, Misaki thought being hit over the head might have hurt less. Certainly a man trying to get into her pants (to use one of Kanami's favorite phrases) should be gentler when knocking a potential paramour out.

There were several reasons for the truncated version of events in her official report. Misaki's primary fear was that, if Section 3 knew BK-201 propositioned her, they'd demand she follow through. Already angry and embarrassed over the experience, Misaki refused to use sex as an entrapment method. So every time she was asked, she ended her recounting of her confrontation with BK-201 before it became … personal.

"Wake up, Chief. We're here," Kouno announced, sounding amused.

Coming out of her reverie, Misaki squinted at a garish sign above a non-descript door. The characters were Chinese, with small western lettering at the bottom of the sign. "I don't remember this place," she commented, a dubious note in her voice.

"You'll love it, Chief," Kouno assured her. "They serve giant portions here."

Misaki grimaced. Her appetite was legendary, and (she thought) exaggerated. She would sometimes go twenty hours without food when she was working on a case, so it was little wonder she'd wolf down two meals worth once she remembered to eat.

"You already love it," corrected Saito. "This is where I've been getting sandwiches from when we have surveillance."

That brightened Misaki's mood. She didn't object to any particular ethnic cuisine, but she was _starving_. She needed vast quantities of greasy food to quiet her stomach. Although she preferred American-style fast food, anything with grease was fine with her. The meat-laden sandwiches Saito had brought along during their last few surveillance missions would do the trick.

The inside of the restaurant was as unimposing as the exterior, crowded with serviceable tables and plain chairs. Obviously it was meant to be an eat-and-run establishment. The hostess waved at the near-empty place, indicting they sit wherever they wanted. Out of habit Misaki sat in the far corner, her back to the wall, making sure she had a clear view of the entrance. Reading the menu, she realized it was some sort of fusion cuisine that freely mixed sandwiches with fried rice. She smiled as she read the ingredients on a monster-sized burger; her two co-workers relaxed. Their boss wasn't picky about food in the usual sense, but it was dangerous trying to feed her anything else when she was in the mood for grease.

"Are you ready to order?" asked a friendly voice. Then, with a note of recognition, "Misaki-san?"

Misaki looked up from her menu to see a young man hovering by her chair, pencil poised over a pad. The coverall he wore was blazoned with the garish symbols from the sign outside. "Li-kun," she said in surprise.

"Hey, kid! You working here now?"

"Saito-san, hello. I just fill in a couple days a week during the morning shift," said Li-kun, smiling. "I haven't seen any of you here before."

"Usually I call ahead and grab take-out for a stake-out." Kouno laughed at Saito's unintentional rhyme, earning a scowl in return. Misaki watched as Li-kun's gaze switched from her to the two men, his gaze wry and indulgent.

It was true. Her co-workers were like big kids, really.

"I'll have the special," she told him. "And two hamburgers. Oh, a plate of fries on the side."

His smile turning professional, Li-kun jotted down her order and started to turn away.

"Oi, kid!" Saito called after him. "What about the rest of us?"

Li-kun blinked, and cast Misaki a slightly incredulous glance. "Ah, sorry—" He took the rest of the order (it was true, the two men together ordered less than she did) and promised to be right back with water when Kouno asked for a glass.

After he left, Saito leaned forward on his elbows, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial manner. "So what did Section 3 want?"

Briefly Misaki debated glossing over her extended debriefing. However, both her coworkers finished their interviews in a couple of hours; hers had taken the better part of a week. Anything less than the truth would spark their police instincts, and _that_ she didn't want. "They were trying to figure out why BK-201 protected me."

Saito bristled. "What? That's somehow your fault?"

Although his indignant statement pretty much summed up her own reaction to her extended interrogation, Misaki felt obligated to point out, "Since it wasn't a rational thing for him to do, they had to see if I had any—" she groped for a suitable word – "_insight_ into his behavior."

"It takes the heat off him and puts it on you instead," remarked Kouno. "Seems pretty rational to _me_."

Saito nodded energetically. From there the conversation was carried by her coworkers, who fed off each other's remarks as they grumbled about Section 3's high-handedness and general lack of professionalism and operational transparency. Misaki smiled as she listened to them. It was nice to know her men would stick up for her.

Li-kun was taking longer than he should be with the water. Misaki glanced around the restaurant, looking for him. It was busier than it had been fifteen minutes earlier. The lunch crowd was beginning to drift in, although most people were grabbing take-out orders rather than sitting down for a meal. She was about to wonder out loud what had happened to their waiter when she saw Li on the opposite side of the restaurant, balancing not just one but three glasses of water on a tray as he made his way towards them. He smiled apologetically as she caught his eye. Misaki started to smile back to show there were no hard feelings (and that his tip wasn't in any danger) when her gaze, caught by unexpected movement, tracked to another patron.

A pug-nosed man, barreling between the close-set tables, knocked into Li from behind.

There was a frozen moment when Misaki could tell what was going to happen, yet was helpless to prevent it. Li-kun flailed to maintain his balance, the tray with the three waters went flying, Saito instinctively ducked, and the next second she couldn't see because her glasses were coated in rivulets of liquid.

Rushing to her side, Li-kun apologized profusely. Saito looked terrified, no doubt thinking she was going blame him for dodging out of the way. Kouno appeared torn between horror and amusement. Misaki took off her glasses, trying ineffectively to shake water off the lenses. Accepting the fistful of paper napkins Li-kun proffered, she dabbed at the growing wet spot on the side of her jacket. At least it wasn't on the front. Even though the dark material would prevent anyone from seeing anything untoward, men were just _weird_ about water and women's chests. Her purse, hanging off the back of the chair, was her biggest concern. She plucked an upside down glass out of it, scowling at the wet, gurgling noises that resulted. Her cell phone would need to be dried out, and probably her revolver as well.

Misaki squinted as she looked around for the pug-nosed man, meaning to give him a piece of her mind. He was nowhere in sight. The world was full of rude people.

Kouno finally gave into his amusement, cackling with one hand over his face. "Chief, you are _soaked_!"

Wringing excess water out of her ponytail, Misaki responded sarcastically. "What an _excellent_ observation. You may make detective yet. Geez, I'm dripping everywhere…"

"Ah, perhaps the ladies' room?" suggested Li-kun. He pulled her purse off her chair, wincing at the sloshing sound. He held it out to her with a diffident expression on his face.

"Good idea." Standing up, Misaki accepted her purse from him. "I'll be right back."

The rest room was serviceable but spartan, lacking cloth towels. Although the paper towels she pulled out of a dispenser helped blot up the excess moisture on her suit and in her hair, she didn't want to risk scratching her glasses. Grumbling, Misaki dug in her purse for tissues to clean off her glasses. She pulled out her revolver, setting it to one side after checking that the safety was on. She _would_ need to clean it thoroughly once she returned to work. Her fingers closed on something soggy. Wrinkling her nose, she pulled out what she thought was left of her tissues.

Except tissues weren't usually made of rice paper.

For a moment she stared blankly at the folded piece of paper she held in her hand. Made of the cheap stuff children used to practice calligraphy, it was falling apart after being dosed with water.

More importantly, it had not been in her purse when she left for work.

Her mind began to race, trying to determine when the missive was placed in her purse. Although she often drove to work, today she had taken the train. She hadn't been jostled any more than usual, nor could she recall anything out of the ordinary during her commute, yet it was the only time she was around strangers.

Only a pickpocket of extraordinary skill could place something _inside_ a policewoman's handbag without her noticing.

Fearing to lose what could be a valuable clue, Misaki was as delicate as she could be as she unfolded the paper.

_Hama Rikyu 11_

The characters were scrawled and smudged, deliberately disguised even before the addition of water. "Hama Rikyu" had to refer to the small park near the river that spilled into Tokyo's bay. Were the western numbers a time or a date? Who was trying to communicate with her? The cartel attempting to recruit her? Those idiots in Section 3 trying to trap her?

BK-201 setting up an assignation?

Her pulse kicked up at the latter thought. BK-201 usually operated at night. Perhaps it wasn't eleven in the morning (she checked her watch; if so, whoever wanted to meet her was out of luck) but 2300 hours? Although the police force used a 24-hour clock, many civilians didn't. She would have to check what they knew of BK-201 to determine if he had a military or a civilian background.

Misaki tried to be careful folding up the wet piece of paper. Preserving the missive proved futile. The delicate rice paper tore along the creases, the characters running so badly they were little more than ink smears. She was left with shreds of pulp and a decision to make.

Showing up at all would be idiotic.

Showing up without backup was suicidal.

Misaki already knew she was going.


	3. Chapter 3

A Deeper Shade of Black

Set sometime in the first series. When? Doesn't matter, really!

If this seems really circular at times, it's because Misaki is in two minds about what she's doing. Or maybe it's just because I'm too lazy to edit properly ^_^

Disclaimer: Don't own, not making any money off of this.

* * *

Misaki spent the afternoon and early evening in her office, poring over the many reports that resulted from Section 4's last confrontation with BK-201. She also reviewed all biographical information on the suspect. What little was contained in the file proved more speculative than deductive. One theory was that he was involved with Heaven's Gate because he was originally from South America; another held that he was Chinese, as the original BK-201 was rumored to be. Thinking over her brief exchanges with BK-201 wasn't helpful. It was hard to detect a foreign accent with that mask smothering any discernible inflection in his voice.

Besides, he could be like Li-kun, a foreigner who spoke Japanese well enough to pass for a native speaker during short chats.

The lack of concrete facts was frustrating. Scowling, Misaki blanked her computer screen. Glancing out the window by her desk, she was further irritated by how dark it had become. She didn't have long to prepare for what-ever-it-was that was happening tonight.

She leaned back in her chair, scowl gradually fading as she considered options. BK-201's offer (if _offer_ was the correct word) would place her in a unique position to find out more about him personally. While BK-201 insisted he wouldn't answer any questions, wasn't it possible that, during extended interactions, he would let something slip? If she accepted a relationship with him, even a purely physical one, she would be bound to learn _something_ that would be useful, such as his name or his country of origin.

Assuming the person trying to meet with her was BK-201, she should treat it as just a date. In a park. In the dark. With sex most likely involved, if he was serious about his proposition. But still; just a date.

She insisted to herself that using sex to gather information about a dangerous contractor wasn't the same as using sex for entrapment.

Sighing, Misaki pushed her chair back and stood. She had a few more chores to do before leaving for Hama-rikyu Park, ones that couldn't be done in her office at police headquarters.

* * *

Misaki was a compulsive maker of lists.

She made shopping lists, whether it was groceries or shoes. When Kanami suggested Misaki needed companionship, she created pages comparing and contrasting dogs with cats. When Kanami rolled her eyes and said she didn't mean _that_ kind of companionship, another list with the names of all unattached males she knew was created, although that one didn't produce the result Kanami wanted. Unable to find a single reason for dating, Misaki abandoned the effort. Annoyed, Kanami bought her reusable batteries, a gift certificate to an adult novelty store, and a box of condoms. The gift certificate was never used, and the batteries, once charged, did a nice job powering her rarely used television remote.

So it was little wonder that Misaki created lists as she wrestled with her next move, lists that couldn't be made at work in case someone discovered them and wondered what she was up to.

The first list involved probabilities. Was someone trying to entrap her? There were pros and cons for her own department, for Section 3, for the cartel trying to recruit BK-201, for BK-201 himself. Just to be thorough, she created a separate category for _foreign agents_ that lumped together MI-6, the CIA, and various other intelligence agencies. MI-6 was quickly crossed out. November 11 was subtle, not obscure. If he felt the need for subterfuge, he'd leave a cryptic voice message.

It took longer to consider her own employer. Both investigating sections of the Tokyo police department had cleared her of any misdoing, although Misaki acknowledged that they were more interested in determining she was really herself. The pen traveling across the paper paused as Misaki gave a wry half-smile. If members of Section 3 observed her making lists, all questions as to her identity would vanish. That noted, she considered entrapment by her own police force to be as low in probability as interference by foreign agents.

The cartel was a little different. There was any number of reasons they might attempt contact in such a roundabout way, from using her to entice BK-201 into the open to recruiting her as their agent on the inside. It had been attempted in the past, most notably by the criminal organization headed by Alice Wang's father. His inability to buy her when she first entered the force gave her an "incorruptible" rating as far as the criminal element was concerned.

Apart from the fact her department was trying to arrest him, BK-201 didn't have any reason to discredit her or kill her. Their lack of due diligence when it came to paperwork aside, Saito and Kouno were competent officers, either easily replacing her. As far as that went, killing her would incur the wrath of her father, who was a formidable foe. BK-201 surely had enough enemies without adding an enraged parent with the might of the Tokyo police force behind him.

If it was BK-201, what did he expect from her?

_She said 'yes' to him…_

And then he'd shocked her, literally. Did he think her _yes_ was still valid? She rather thought electrocuting her, even non-fatally, made any agreement null and void.

Grimacing, Misaki laid down her pen, pushing two fingers against her creased brow. She kept coming back to BK-201. He alone knew the entirety of their conversation. He was the one there when she'd said _yes_. Assuming he interpreted that as agreement or a promise, he was calling her out to collect.

She had never done anything like this before. Dates, yes, but she was still having trouble classifying their rendezvous as a _date. _Meeting up for casual sex was in a different category.

_If it's "casual," why go to this much trouble? _

That was a good question. Sex was a commodity, easily attainable. Kanami kept a list of bars and dance clubs she considered "safe" places for picking someone up for an hour or two. There were even host clubs, some of which were little more than fronts for prostitution. Did BK-201 get off on danger? Was doing "it" with a policewoman a particular fetish of his?

He was a contractor; he shouldn't _get off_ on anything.

Which meant he shouldn't have any interest in sex.

Going in mental circles like this was giving her a headache, definitely a bad idea if it the person waiting for her was an amorous BK-201.

Date or tryst, she still needed to get ready. Setting aside her pen, Misaki went to peruse her wardrobe with all the enthusiasm of preparing for a funeral.

Deciding what to wear proved difficult. BK-201 specified _dark_ as a requirement for their meeting (and Hama-rikyu Park would prove very dark that time of night), so Misaki wasn't sure it even mattered if she had her nice underwear on. She pulled it out anyway. It was from another shopping trip with Kanami, taken after the latter met Li-kun for the first time. Sensing interest on both sides (or so Kanami claimed), Misaki's so-called friend insisted Misaki purchase a matching bra-and-panty set, the same brand that they found Li-kun holding in the lingerie department that day. "It may not be for his girlfriend, but he wouldn't be looking at it if he didn't like it," Kanami insisted. According to Kanami, the scratchy bits of lace were supposed to give Misaki more confidence in her femininity. The one change was the color. Pastels were insipid with Misaki's skin tones, declared Kanami. Something with more drama was called for. Misaki firmly vetoed the original ruby red set Kanami eyed, but caved when Kanami found a set that was a deep blue. "Like your friend's eyes," snickered Kanami at the checkout line, to Misaki's eternal embarrassment.

Misaki swore both that she needed a new best friend and that she was never going shopping with her current best friend again.

She doubted there would be any wining and dining going on, so there wasn't a need for any of her nice dresses. Misaki settled for practical clothes over the useless undergarments, a pantsuit made of lighter fabric than her usual uniform. Her one concession to frivolity was a pair of strappy sandals that Kanami nagged her into buying. "You have such delicate feet, you should show them off!" her (alleged) friend insisted.

Hopefully it wasn't the cartel waiting for her at Hama-rikyu Park tonight. Running for her life in these things was tantamount to suicide.

Usually she didn't go armed on her dates, but this was an exception. The small pistol went in its usual holster under her arm; the larger service revolver went into her shoulder bag. Just in case whoever was waiting for her proved violent and she couldn't get away, she found and put on a couple of GPS devices that could be activated remotely. Another went into her purse. That one she'd leave in her car. Considering both her profession and who her father was, all that had to happen to trigger a city-side search was for her not to show up for work tomorrow. She would need to leave clues so that her co-workers could find whatever was left of her if need be.

Speaking of safety…

Telling herself she had to be practical, Misaki went into the bathroom. She spent several minutes on her knees, digging through an accumulation of feminine clutter in her cabinets before finally locating what she was looking for. Sinking back on her heels, she glared at the unassuming white and blue box in her hand. _Better safe than sorry_ was Kanami's motto, which was why condoms were included with the gift certificate. The box ended up under the wash basin, sharing space with perfumes and make-up kits that saw as little use.

Which raised another question: did condoms have an expiration date?

Misaki flipped the box around.

Yes, they did. These had a month left.

Kanami was right; she needed to get out more.

Sighing, Misaki rose to her feet, resolutely stuffing the condoms into her purse.


	4. Chapter 4

A Deeper Shade of Black

Set sometime in the first series. When? Doesn't matter, really!

Sorry for not responding to reviews the way I usually do. Hopefully the fast update will make up for my lack of social skills!

Disclaimer: Don't own, not making any money off of this.

* * *

Misaki was surprised to find street parking available within a reasonable walking distance of the park. Surrounded as it was by high-rise buildings that included both apartments and offices, she anticipated driving in circles for an hour before giving up and going home. Or was that something she hoped for…?

She slammed the car door shut, her jaw firming with resolve. Right. She could do this.

Raising two fingers towards the bridge of her nose to adjust her glasses, Misaki nearly poked out an eye. Mindful that her glasses had been broken during her last confrontation with BK-201, she had opted for her rarely worn contact lenses. With her astigmatism, contacts were impractical on the job. She didn't need blurry vision when she was trying to aim her weapon.

_I really am treating this like a date, aren't I?_ A wry smile chased across Misaki's lips. If it was the criminal syndicate rather than BK-201, she was going to both feel like an idiot and probably get herself killed, trying to run around in her strappy sandals, shooting at the bad guys while desperately blinking to keep her contacts aligned so her vision remained focused.

And now she was standing by her car thinking an ambush by a cartel was preferable to meeting one-on-one with a man who, although he could have killed her several times over, had (at least so far) left her unharmed.

No wonder she never went on dates. It was too nerve-racking. Dealing with murderous criminal scum was easy in comparison.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Misaki surreptitiously tapped her fingertips against the holster strapped to her side. _False reassurance, _she acknowledged. She would be better armed if she knew more about BK-201, which brought her back to the real reason she was here. Intelligence gathering. Sleeping with the enemy to gather said intelligence was a small price to pay.

Or so she told herself.

Her sandals slapped against her feet as she walked along the sideway that approached the park. It was an odd noise, unlike her usual firm footsteps. Misaki soon realized that she needed to take small steps rather than her normal brisk strides or risk kicking the useless things off entirely. She was going to have to talk to Kanami about her impractical taste in footwear. In fact, there were so many things she needed to say to her supposed best friend that Misaki mentally started a list for their next meeting.

The park was closed, of course, but accessible to anyone willing to brave pushing past the thick, shrubby border. Misaki shouldered through with determination. Even though well-lighted streets surrounded the park, within its boundaries darkness reigned. She paused when her footing changed from damp vegetation to pebbles, realizing she was on one of the winding scenic paths.

_Too dark to be scenic at the moment,_ she thought, _although there should be a bench nearby._ She carefully edged along the path as her eyes adjusted, beginning to pick out dark shapes against the dark background. Cautiously prodding one solid-looking shadow with her toe, Misaki was relieved to discover it was a bench set just off the path. She never thought of this particular park as being especially large, but wandering around in the dark trying to find someone who may or may not be BK-201 was a futile exercise. Sitting down, she crossed her arms as she shot irritated glances around the darkened area. Let whoever wanted this meeting find her instead.

It wasn't long before her foot was tapping impatiently. Grumbling under her breath, Misaki leaned her head back, eyes closed, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the park. The park was too quiet for her tastes. She was a city girl, through and through; the lack of traffic noise and background human murmuring threw off her senses. Trying to hear a single footfall (or a 'thump' since BK-201 was always falling out of the sky) over the gentle rustling of trees proved beyond her meager tracking abilities. She could chase a felon through blocks of twisting back alleys without once losing sight of the criminal, but place her in anything that approximated "nature" (even a carefully manicured nature) and she would be lost in seconds.

"You shouldn't frown so hard," commented a voice from directly in front of her.

Drawing in a calming breath through her nose, Misaki opened her eyes and lowered her chin. Across the path from her seat floated a mask. She blinked, and refocused slightly to the side, carefully picking out the subtle shades that delimitated BK-201's all-encompassing coat from the shadowed background. "It _is_ you," she said, a little surprised her deductions proved accurate.

"You were expecting someone else?"

"I suspected a trap by your want-to-be friends. They've been asking questions about me."

"Are they making a nuisance of themselves? I'll have to do something about that."

Misaki glared at him. "Let the police deal with the criminals."

His response carried the barest hint of amusement. "Of course, Section-Chief Kirihara."

Five seconds into their meeting, and he was already irritating the _heck_ out of her. "I'm here," snapped Misaki. "What do you want?"

"You said _yes._ Did you mean it?"

"Did _you_?" she countered.

There was crunch as he took a step closer, then another, until he towered over her. Gloved fingers touched the side of her neck. Suddenly the mask was right in front of her, filling her vision. "Yes," he said, his voice low and laced with nuance. "I meant it."

Misaki had the feeling that, if not for the mask, he would have kissed her. What was more disconcerting, she realized, was that she would have let him.

The leather of his gloves gently brushed up and down her neck before he straightened. When next he spoke, his voice was brisk and businesslike. "Any weapons?"

"The usual ones in the usual places."

"GPS devices?"

Scowling, Misaki didn't answer.

"Tsk. Where's the trust?" He reached for her.

She managed not to flinch, but all he did was lightly lay his hands on her shoulders before trailing his fingertips down her arms. _He's frisking me._ "Not going to tell me to assume the position?" Misaki asked dryly.

BK-201 hesitated, fingers lingering near her elbows, most likely mentally parsing a dozen randy responses before settling on a single shake of his head. Continuing, he paused at her wrist, touching the too-large watch before deftly unlatching the band. Pulling her from her sitting position on the bench, he transferred the light touch to her sides. Misaki tried not to fidget. His touch was impersonal; he wasn't taking advantage of the situation for a grope. His fingers paused when he reached the holster holding her gun before moving on. He was more concerned about tracking devices than weapons? But then, bullets bounced off him, so perhaps it wasn't surprising that he left her gun.

Kneeling, he ran his hands down her legs, stopping at her ankles. "Good try," he said. He lifted the cuff of her pants to remove the GPS device strapped to her ankle. "Anyone monitoring these?"

"No," Misaki said flatly. "Just a precaution so they can find what's left of me." She shook her head. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

The mask turned upwards, as if he was looking into her face. Not that she could tell where he was looking. "I'm not going to hurt you." He sounded sincere, but then, contractors were good at lying. She heard cloth rustling as he stood up. Undoubtedly both her GPS devices were safely ensconced in a pocket. "I'll give these back to you later."

_After we're done having illicit sex,_ she thought to herself sardonically. Although why illicit? They were both consenting adults, so perhaps that was the wrong word. "I have a few questions before I agree to anything."

"No questions," he reminded her.

Considering he had already asked several questions, Misaki thought that was patently unfair. "Not about—" She sighed, and steeled herself. "I have condoms. Will you use them?"

"Yes," he said after a brief pause, his voice notably huskier.

"When was your last sexual encounter?"

The mask skewed to the right. She wondered if she'd surprised him or insulted him. Would a contractor appreciate being logical when it came to intimacy?

"Yours?" was his unexpected response.

She should have anticipated he might turn the tables. Feeling the color rise in her face, Misaki was suddenly glad for the dark. "College. I graduated four years ago."

"Criminal science, I assume?"

This was bordering on typical date-like small talk. "My diploma says 'criminal justice,' but yes."

"South America." It took a moment to realize he was finally answering her question. "I've had two partners, but none since becoming a contractor five years ago." The mask skewed to the left. "So in a way, you'd be my first."

He, like November 11, appeared to have a sense of humor, although BK-201 was dry where the British agent was sly.

"Anything else?" he asked after a polite pause to wait for her next question.

_Do you have a name? Who are you working for? Is this an elaborate set-up to discredit me? Why does a contractor have a sense of humor, or any interest in sex, or any interest in _me_? _"No," Misaki said quietly.

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

It was worded so graciously he might have been asking her over for tea. "I – yes."

"I'll have to blindfold you."

"What?" Misaki's voice rose half-an-octave in alarm. She gritted out the next word. "Why?"

"Because I'm taking you somewhere you can't know about." There was that irritatingly _logical _tone again, the one that reminded her he was a contractor. As if she could forget something so fundamental about him...

Misaki grumbled, vexed. "We're not doing it here?"

"This is a public place, Section-Chief." He sounded amused again. "I'm sure there's a number of ordinances we're already violating. We wouldn't want to add public indecency to that."

"Fine, whatever, just get it over with," she huffed.

"So romantic." She rolled her eyes before closing them. He turned her around, and she felt material drape across her upper face. Misaki knew should be feeling anxious or vulnerable, but honestly all she felt was a little irritated. He tied the blindfold loosely, something she could easily shake off. "I need one hand free. Turn around and put your arms around my neck."

She complied, very aware of how broad he was compared to her. He slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her closer. "I'm using my cable," he warned. "It will be disorienting."

"I figured that's why you blindfolded me."

"I'm going to pick you up now. Don't be afraid."

She huffed again.

He lifted her until her toes brushed the ground. Belatedly, she realized another reason she should have worn different shoes; she would lose these in mid-air. "Wait!"

He promptly lowered her until her feet touched the ground again, although he didn't release her. "Change your mind?"

"I need to take off my sandals."

His arm dropped from her. She felt his hands close on her arms, removing hers from his shoulders. Then he knelt in front of her, and for the second time he touched her ankle. "I'll hold on to them for you. Lift up your foot."

Without her sight, her sense of balance was compromised. She put one hand down, and felt his shoulder tense under her fingers. His hands ran up her legs, her hips, gripped her waist before pushing her backwards. _Here after all_ she thought, a bizarre combination of panicked dread and primal excitement filling her. She plopped down into the bench, the existence of which she had completely forgotten. …_Oh. He wants me to sit down while he's taking off my shoes. How practical. Of course it's practical. He's a contractor._ "They're loose. I can just kick them off."

"I'll do it."

His voice was … different. Diffident. And … familiar, somehow? Behind the blindfold she opened her eyes, only to close them again as the cloth brushed uncomfortably against them.

"Did you wear these for me?"

Definitely a different tone to his voice now. Why was she suddenly struck by a sense of familiarity? Some stray synapse in the back of her mind was _screaming_ at her, but it was hard to pay attention when his gloved fingertips were handling her foot so delicately. "Well," Misaki said, wincing at how breathless she sounded, "it's like a date, right? I thought I should wear something, um, date-like."

"I wish I could take you somewhere to show you off."

If her eyes weren't already closed, Misaki would have blinked in astonishment at the wistful note in his voice. "The blindfold might raise some questions," she said sharply.

He chuckled, the same smothered sound of amusement she remembered from the last time they were together in a darkened park. "Depends on where we went."

One of the shoes came off. He ran his fingers gently underneath the arch of her bare foot. Maybe he had a foot fetish rather than a policewoman fetish? Those same fingers feathered across the top of her foot. Misaki repressed a shudder. She had no idea her feet were so sensitive. A little ticklish, yes, but not enough to make her want to squirm. Maybe she was the one with a foot fetish? Or perhaps the blindfold heightened the sensation. "For someone who hasn't been around women for five years, you seem to know your way around ladies' footwear."

BK-201's response, when it came, was markedly cooler. "Shoes are shoes." There was less lingering over the process as the second shoe came off. His fingers left her skin. Clothing rustled as he stood up. "Let's try this again, shall we?"

As soon as Misaki once more wrapped her arms around his shoulders a jolt shot through her as her feet left the ground. For a second she thought he'd electrocuted her again. Her fingers clenched into the dense-feeling cloth under her hands. No, he had activated his cable and they were flying off to who-knows-where. The sensation was even more disorienting with her eyes covered. She was glad she'd opted for a practical pants suit rather than a dress. A dress had to be awkward to fly around in. When the direction changed abruptly, more horizontal than vertical, Misaki bit back a gasp.

"Try not to lose your lunch," BK-201 advised, his voice near her ear.

She dryly echoed what he'd said earlier. "How romantic."


	5. Chapter 5

**A Deeper Shade of Black**

Set sometime in the first series. When? Doesn't matter, really!

Disclaimer: Don't own, not making any money off of this.

* * *

Being blindfolded made the passage of time difficult to judge. Was it only a few minutes or many before she felt the drop in her stomach that indicated an abrupt change in altitude? Misaki tried not to panic when she realized they were in free-fall, although she couldn't help once more clenching her fingers into his shoulders. Next to her ear, "I've got you," BK-201 murmured.

_That's part of the problem, isn't it? _she thought in irritation. There was another disorienting shift in position, followed by a jarring halt to all motion. Slowly Misaki relaxed her fingers, unconsciously smoothing her hands across BK-201's shoulders as she canted her head, attempting to use her other senses in place of her eyes for clues to her location. _It's quiet. It doesn't smell like we're right next to the bay anymore. What was that flat noise when we landed? It didn't sound like gravel or concrete. He's holding me like he did last time, across his arms – he's amazingly strong. Is that related to his contractor abilities?_

There was another murmur in her ear. "Shoo."

Had BK-201, the most deadly of all known contractors, just said _shoo _to her? "Excuse me?" Misaki said blankly.

His arms tightened around her. "Not you." He raised his voice slightly as he stood up, his tone acerbic. "Just a mangy old ally cat looking for handouts."

As if on cue, there was a _mew_. Could a mew seem amused? This one did. Misaki wondered if being blindfolded was distorting rather than highlighting her perceptions. At the same time, the part of her that couldn't help being a policewoman made an observation. _Domesticated animals usually mean residential areas._

There was a sliding sound. "No, you can't come in, don't even think about it!" snarled BK-201, albeit in a quiet manner. _Trying not to wake up the neighbors? _A more plaintive _mew _was heard. BK-201 snorted; there was a slamming noise as the sliding door was kicked closed. "Pervert," he grumbled.

Misaki couldn't help it. She snickered. She didn't know which she found more amusing, that a contractor had a cat, or that BK-201 didn't want his pet around while he was entertaining his _date. "_I don't think _pervert_ applies to animals."

"Believe me, it's appropriate for that one." BK-201 took a couple of steps, the sound of his footfalls altering as he went from a hard substrate to a more cushioned one. The air changed, from the ambient smells of the outdoors to the nearly stale, still air of a small room. Misaki carefully drew a breath in through her nose and held it. There wasn't anything especially distinguishing, except maybe a faint hint of frying oil, the sort used when cooking with a wok. BK-201 cooked? _Well, he has to eat and not everyone eats frozen dinners at home all the time the way I do._

The arm underneath her knees dropped away. He lowered her feet to the floor, keeping one hand on her shoulder. "We're here, Section-Chief Kirihara."

_Where's here? _she wanted to ask. She thought that might violate the _no questions_ policy, although admittedly they were both being a little loose with it. Instead, "Why do you keep calling me that?" Misaki demanded.

"The allure of the forbidden?" He spoke as if she had posed an interesting but abstract question. To a contractor, it probably was. "I suppose it's because you seem like a very formal person. Do you prefer Kirihara-san? Or Misaki-san?"

The stray synapse in the back of her head sparked again. She glowered in his general direction, although she was sure "glower" was one of those expressions that didn't project well when a face was half-covered by a blindfold. "I think you can call me by my name."

"Misaki-san," he said again, as if formalizing a verbal agreement.

The intonation, the way he said it, she _knew_ it…

Her mind skittered away from drawing any conclusions. "Just Misaki."

He didn't offer a name in return. Misaki thought that calling out "BK-201!" in the throes of passion was likely to be awkward, so she resolved to be quiet. Not that she was much of one for calling out anything during passion. The last couple of times in college, she'd stared at the ceiling and wondered how much longer it was going to take. At least if the blindfold stayed on the entire time, it would prevent him from _noticing_ she was more interested in the ceiling than in anything he happened to be doing.

"Condoms?" BK-201 asked, his tone impersonal.

Ah, the prosaic nature of the contractor… "In my purse." The hand on her shoulder shifted. Misaki realized he was plucking at the strap of her bag. "Careful, there's a gun in there, too."

"Why am I not surprised?" he muttered, mostly under his breath. "Is the safety on?"

He didn't ask whether or not it was loaded. "Of course." Misaki felt the shoulder strap loosen then fall away all together as the weight of her bag left her. There was a rustling sound, followed by a chuckle. "An entire box? You have high expectations of me."

She blushed fiercely, abruptly glad most of her face was concealed by the blindfold.

Fingers brushed against the side of her neck, tugging a bit at her hair. "I'm going to put your purse down by the head of the futon." _Futon? _she thought. _Most hotels have western-style beds. This really _is_ where he lives! _His fingers fell away as he stepped from her. His voice was partially muffled, as if his face was turned in another direction. "You'll be able to reach it easily, should you feel the need for your weapon."

Oddly, Misaki thought it was one of the most considerate things one of her dates had ever done for her.

The material loosely wrapped around her head slipped. As much as it felt like it, his lingering touch wasn't a caress; he had undone the knot holding the blindfold together. Cautiously Misaki reached up with one hand to tug it down, until it lay like a scarf around her neck. Wide-eyed she looked around, but the room had been completely light-proofed, or so it seemed. A glimmer caught the edge of her sight. She turned her head to see the mask across the room, staring back at her. She pivoted, taking one step towards it. Hands closed around her elbows from the back.

She braked hard, staring at the mask, heart in her throat. _Is someone _else_ in the room? Who?_

A hand slid from her elbow to her waist, fingers spreading and pushing gently, tugging her against a hard-planed body. There was a feathering against the side of her face _(hair?) _as something cool brushed against her cheekbone _(nose?). _Lips pressed just under her jaw. "Relax," murmured BK-201 against her skin.

_Oh_. That answered _that._ His mask was off, and apparently propped up against something across the room, while the man himself stood behind her holding her almost casually.

"Déjà vu," Misaki muttered.

"Hmmm?"

"It was like this the first time, after you grabbed me off the roof."

"Not exactly." His other arm folded across her chest, hand cupping her shoulder. She should have felt trapped, but his embrace was non-constraining. "This time your hands are free, so you can touch me back."

_Touch him? _Misaki had to breath through her nose to calm down. Of _course_ she was going to touch him, she was here to have sex with him. She needed to stop jumping like a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl in a television drama. Cautiously she bent both arms, wrapping fingers around the wrist near her shoulder, brushing her other hand against the cloth covering his arm. She felt muscles twitch slightly under her light strokes. Along with his mask, BK-201 had shed his heavy coat. _I really can't keep saying 'BK-201.' _Steeling herself for rejection, Misaki asked, "What do I call you?"

"What do you usually call me?" he countered.

"Your Messier number."

"How impersonal." He sounded amused again. Misaki could feel puffs of warm air against her neck as he spoke.

"Some of my men say you're the Black Reaper."

He neither confirmed nor denied the rumor. "Maybe you should call me Noir, then."

French for black? She wrinkled her nose. That sounded like something November 11 would come up with. "You aren't helping."

"Call me anything you like," he said dismissively. His cool nose pressed against her temple as his mouth barely brushed her cheekbone. Misaki had the distinct impression he wasn't really listening. "Is there someone you'd like me to be?"

"I don't know anyone outside of my department." _And Li-kun_, she thought. Color heated her cheeks.

A hand caught her chin, tilting it up so that her neck arched against his shoulder. Could he see in the dark? She still could only make out the barest outlines. "There is someone," he said.

"Not really. I helped him pick out lingerie for another woman. That hardly counts." His breath caught. Misaki tried to look up at his face, wondering if she'd insulted him, but couldn't see anything more than the shadow of his jaw. "I seem to think of him when you're around," she added, more to herself.

"I'm a blank slate. You can project anything you like onto me." His already-loose embrace slackened more. "Turn around."

_Wasn't I supposed to be giving the orders?_ she thought, but she did as he asked.

He kissed her.

Well, "kiss" was a pale description. The hand on her waist pulled her hard against the arc of his body, forcing hers into the same bend. Fingers wrapped around the back of her neck, a thumb stroking under her jaw to angle her mouth just so. His lips shifted and pressed and nibbled for what seemed like minutes. When he finally pulled away he had to fight for distance because somehow she was clutching his hair; she was a self-contained person, not a passive one. They leaned against each other, panting from lack of air.

He hadn't used his tongue (much), his hands had stayed in (relatively) neutral areas, yet Misaki was only prevented from becoming a boneless puddle of goo on the floor because she was using his body to prop herself up.

"Talking about woman's undergarments turns you on," Misaki commented. She meant to be arch, but it came out breathless and sultry and not sounding anything like her usual voice at all.

"_You_ and women's undergarments turn me on," he husked back. "Would you wear something if I asked you to?"

She decided to be flippant, the way Kanami was when strange men asked her out on dates. "Not if it's a dog collar." _Flippant_ was apparently as impossible for her as _arch_. It was worded like a promise.

He shuddered, arms tightening as he dipped in for another too-intense-to-be-called-a-kiss. "Hei," he whispered against the side of her mouth minutes later as she leaned against him sucking in air. "Call me Hei."

_Finally, a name, _commented a voice deep within her mind. _Chinese, like Li-kun._ It sounded like _her _voice normally did when she was going over the facts of a case with her men. Misaki ignored it.

He pulled her arms away from his body, running his fingertips lightly down until he found her hands. His fingers twined with hers, gripping strongly. Inclining forward, he rested his forehead against hers. Air blew across her mouth as he spoke. "I'm taking you to bed now."

"Wait."

He froze in place instantly. Only his fingers moved, pressing and relaxing against her hands.

"Why this? Why me?"

She felt him shake his head. _This_ question he wasn't going to answer. "Change your mind?" he asked instead, just as he did when she stopped him at the park.

It was absurd to feel safe around him, especially given he had electrocuted her once, yet this was the second time he had stopped because she asked him to. "What if I did?"

"I'd take you back, of course." It was uttered without any inflection or emotion, a simple matter-of-fact response. "I would have to blindfold you again, naturally."

"Naturally," Misaki echoed. "I'm surprised you let me take it off at all."

"I wanted to kiss you without anything in the way." He released one of her hands, raising his to touch her mouth with his fingertips. "I still do. For a first date, I can't complain," he said quietly. "We can go back now. I hope you don't mind if I keep the condoms," he added, amusement again threading into his tone.

Misaki wondered if she should mention the expiration date on the box. It wasn't too far in the future. "Hei."

He responded with his usual non-committal "Hmmm?"

For a moment her nerve failed. Misaki ducked her head, tucking her chin against his chest. "Just trying it out."

He chuckled. "Try it out all you like."

"Hei." She spoke into the material of his shirt. "I don't want to go back yet."

"I'm glad." His arms wrapped around her; she felt a kiss pressed against the top of her head. "I'll try to make you glad, too," Hei whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

**A Deeper Shade of Black**

Set sometime in the first series. When? Doesn't matter, really!

The last chapter! If the first half looks familiar, skip to the second half.

Disclaimer: Don't own, not making any money off of this.

* * *

Consciousness was a nebulous affair. It seemed her body woke up a piece at a time. Small aches made themselves known, not unpleasant, just mild indicators of muscles rarely used. She stretched against smooth sheets, feeling the bounce of a mattress under her rather than unyielding sensation of a futon against the floor. There was a mild crackle as she turned lazily onto her side, static electricity causing her hair to both cling to the pillow and pop with small shocks as she moved.

_What…?_

Misaki's eyes shot open. She promptly yelped and clenched them shut again, slapping a hand over her face as if to physically hold her eyelids closed.

Sandpaper. Opening her eyes felt like sandpaper was being dragged across them, only a dozen times worse than last time because her contacts were sticking to the insides of her eyelids.

_Last time…?_

Making sure her eyelids remained squeezed shut, Misaki cautiously moved her hand up her face towards the edge of her hairline. There was another crackle, more ominous than before. Misaki snatched her hand away with a wince.

Her hair was alive with static electricity.

BK-201 had used his power on her _again._ But why this time-?

Her suspicious police mind conjured up a million scenarios in an instant, most involving seduction as an intermediary step in kidnapping. She didn't _feel_ kidnapped, though. She wasn't restrained in any way, and her surroundings were familiar and comfortable.

_What?_

Misaki creaked one eye open the barest sliver, trying to get a sense of where she was.

Which was her own bedroom.

…Well, that was a surprise. Oh, not that she woke up alone (she rather expected that) but being in her own bed defied logic. Apparently BK-201 thought the gentlemanly thing to do was escort his _date_ home. Unfortunately, the _practical_ thing to do was knock her out so he could swing across town without risk of her waking up in mid-transport.

Misaki had a hard time deciding what bothered her the most: the sandpaper feeling when opening her eyes, made a magnitude worse because she'd been wearing contact lenses; knowing that he knew where she lived and apparently could enter the premises at will; or the fact she hadn't replenished her conditioner after the last time and couldn't effectively rid her hair of the residual static electricity.

She wondered what time it was. It was light out, she could tell that through her closed lids, but was she late for work? After painfully prying her eyes open, she cast about for her bedside clock, only to be confronted by her cell phone. It laid flipped open on the table, facing her pillow so that she couldn't miss the message screen. Grimacing, she reached out a hand to snag it, dragging it under the covers so she could see the display without burning out her retinas.

_I like your underwear_

Misaki grumbled in vexation. He had to see her _naked _in order to dress her, which was patently unfair as _she_ hadn't been able to see _him _last night. _Feel_ him, yes, but not –

_Focus_, she told herself sternly. She squinted at the numbers in the display's corner. 0700 hours. Time for a shower, thank goodness. Even if she really were out of conditioner, water would help tame her hair.

Wait. Her car was still at the park. Which meant, in order to get to work on time, she had to take public transport. Thoughts of a leisurely shower followed by a leisurely soak vanished, replaced by train timetables that told her she needed to hurry. Cringing, Misaki forced herself to swing her legs out of bed. Her wince became more pronounced. Some of those _not unpleasant_ aches approached actual pain as soon as she stood up.

Kanami would just snort and tell her she needed to get laid more often.

_Need new best friend_ was at the top of her list_,_ Misaki reminded herself as she slowly walked (she was _not_ limping, she insisted) into the bathroom. BK-201 had put her to bed fully dressed except for her much-abused strappy sandals. She peeled her clothes off, pausing when she reached the last layer to glance in the mirror at her bra-and-panty set. _Kanami's right, _she thought, _the blue matches his eyes._

The mental shields slammed down before she could take that thought any further.

Twisting the knobs until the temperature was scalding, Misaki shed the last of her clothes, stepping into the blast of water without flinching. She methodically scrubbed her skin, checking for marks. A faint one over her hip, not quite a bruise; probably a thumbprint, he'd gripped her hard towards the end of their first time. Very pale marks over one breast; she squirmed when he'd kissed her there, and he spent some time worrying at the skin until she slapped him alongside the head and told him to stop teasing. No whisker burns. He was smooth shaven, although she couldn't tell much more about his features from their night together. All she could really figure out was that he had a straight nose and thin lips. It didn't help her mind to put together a composite sketch.

The image that _did_ jump into her head regarded her with a familiar wry half-smile. She ruthlessly repressed it.

* * *

Misaki _really_ needed to talk to BK-201 about his nasty habit of using his powers on her. Her hair wasn't going to survive another jolt. Without a bottle of conditioner to smooth it down it wouldn't stay tamed in the usual ponytail. Instead it flared out at the ends, sticking to the back of her jacket. On the train, it would probably attach itself to any salary man who happened to be near, which couldn't help but be awkward. For the second time in as many days Misaki found herself on her knees under her sink, digging through rarely used female accoutrements as she searched for something, _anything_ that would keep her hair in check.

The last thing she'd pulled out from the cabinet had proved very useful. Going by the previous night, she didn't have to worry about the expiration date of the condoms for much longer. Although she found her purse by her bedside, guns and GPS devices safely tucked inside, and her sandals were placed inside the front door, the box of condoms was conspicuous by its absence.

_Stop that,_ Misaki told herself sternly. _Him keeping the condoms doesn't mean anything. One night stand. You're an adult; get over it!_

It hadn't _felt _like a one-night stand.

_He_ didn't act like it was a one-night stand…

"_I love your skin," he ground out against her throat, hands clenched into her hair. "I love how tightly it wraps around me." Fingers skated down the side of her face, pressed over her heart. He kissed her deeply, slowly, like he had before when they were fully dressed and standing up. "Do you like that?" he asked against her mouth. "You have to tell me what you like. I won't let you go until you do…"_

He was true to his word. She had never been talkative during sex, but before it was because she didn't think anything happening was worth commenting on. This time, it was because she spent most of her time desperately sucking in air and _couldn't_ speak.

Misaki realized she was still kneeling on the floor of her bathroom, staring blankly in front of her at nothing in particular. Scowling, she resumed her search, eventually coming up with a handful of pins and a hair ornament that was, bizarrely, in the shape of a butterfly. She had no idea where it came from or how long it had been hiding under her sink. Standing, she wrapped her long hair around one hand, trying not to recoil as small shocks danced along her fingers. She went for a variation of the hairstyle she wore during Alice's party, one bun set at the back of her head instead of the two on either side, and blindly stuck the butterfly haphazardly in the mass, hoping it concealed some of the pins. Surveying her reflection, Misaki grimaced slightly. She looked even more severe than usual, she thought, not realizing that the style focused attention favorably on her high cheekbones and full mouth.

Walking into her bedroom, Misaki glanced at the clock, checked the time against her mental train timetables again, and sighed. She picked up her cell phone and flipped it open, pushing one of the keys on her speed dial. "Saito? I'm having car trouble; I won't be able to make it in this morning. Is there anything new on the docket I need to worry about?"

"Nothing of note," reported Saito after a pause. "We have reports of mild activity from NG-224 and BK-201. No incidents related to either, and not enough to pin-point their locations."

Misaki involuntarily raised a hand to her hair, wincing at another small shock. '_Mild' activity? That's not what it felt like from here!_ She blushed, realizing her thoughts could be taken another way entirely, and was glad she hadn't activated the phone's camera while talking to Saito.

* * *

Misaki meant to retrieve her car and go straight to work. Really. She did. When she stepped off her train at Shiodome station, however, it was already 0900 hours, which coincided with the opening of Hama Rikyu Park. Before she knew it, instead of getting in her car and driving back to the station, Misaki was handing the entrance fee to a smiling yukata-clad clerk. She made a mental promise to drop the equivalent of the entrance fee into any offering box she stumbled across on the grounds to compensate for her illegal entry the night before.

Once inside, Misaki was at a loss. If her goal was to revisit the scene of the crime, she had a basic problem. As it had been dark last night, she had no idea where the scene of the crime was. She wandered towards the teahouse by the small lake, listening absently to the sound of her feet against the smooth pathway. That wasn't right, she realized; last night her sandals had skidded against less secure footing. Pivoting away from the more traveled paths, Misaki strode deeper into the park, eyes down as she studied the substrate. She paused as the path branched, eyeing one possibility as it wound up a small hill before rejecting it. Her journey the night before was along ground that was rough but level. She continued following the straight path, into an area where the well-manicured trees were a little larger and the path a touch narrower. Rounding a bend, she halted.

There was a bench.

Even though it probably wasn't _the_ bench, Misaki scanned the immediate area for any clues (scuff marks, cloth snagged on a branch, a discarded sandal) that _this_ was the place because she was a police officer and couldn't help herself. There weren't any distinguishing features. Shading her eyes, Misaki looked up, searching for a point where BK-201 might have attached his cable when he swung off with her. None of the surrounding trees appeared sturdy enough to support the weight of a full-grown man, let alone one hauling another person with him. It was more likely that _the_ bench was on the other side of the park, near the skyscrapers that dominated the park's skyline. Dropping her hand, Misaki blew out a breath that was _not_ (she insisted to herself) a discouraged sigh.

Last night's dark had proved both liberating and limiting; she did things she never imagined before, yet her vision had been restricted. It was light out now. The shadows cast by the trees weren't enough to hide in. Not that Misaki could hide from the truth any longer. Her half-formulated plan the previous night was to take the new information, _Hei,_ and cross-reference the name with every unsolved criminal act, every informant rumor, that had been entered in the police database in the past year. It wasn't necessary. Unencumbered by the safeguards her waking psyche insisted upon, Misaki's unconscious mind had neatly put all the pieces of the puzzle together. As soon as she awoke the truth was there, piercing her brain like the sharpest of scalpels.

Sitting down on the bench, Misaki considered her past few meetings with all of the guises worn by BK-201.

Since her initial confrontation with BK-201 when his body language sparked a glimmer of recognition, Misaki had isolated the truth, preventing it from breaking away from her control. Even this morning, she used her irritation at being knocked out and the need to retrieve her car as distracters. Here, on one of the scenic paths she couldn't see last night, the rustling of the nearby trees comforting rather than eerie and foreign, the truth could no longer be locked away.

What she was going to do about it … that Misaki hadn't decided yet.

Her brows folded together as she tried to consider her options. Grumbling under her breath, Misaki leaned her head back, eyes closed.

"You shouldn't frown so hard," commented a voice nearby.

Feeling absolutely no trace of surprise, Misaki opened her eyes, drew a calming breath in through her nose, and lowered her chin.

A little way down the path, just at the bend, stood Li-kun, hands stuffed in his pants pocket, watching her. His expression was somber, devoid of the usual self-depreciating half-smile. While she sat comfortably in the shade, the morning sun shone harshly into his face. Knowing he was a university student, Misaki was used to thinking of him as much younger than she was. The unforgiving light abruptly made Misaki aware that he was older than she originally thought, probably her own age.

"Li-kun," she acknowledged after a moment. There was the faintest raising lilt in the name, almost a question.

He ducked his head in a nod, but didn't approach.

For the first time, Misaki gazed at him with the assessing eyes of a police detective. Li-kun wasn't especially good-looking. If anything, everything about him was relentlessly run-of-the-mill, from his clothing to his looks to the way he stood. He carefully cultivated the aura of _average,_ thought Misaki clinically, as detached from her analysis as any contractor. Lowering his eyes so that the distinctive blue color wasn't obvious, hunching his shoulders to disguise the breadth of them, inhabiting a personality so _normal_ it would take wearing a mask to make him stand out in a crowd…

"Come here often?" she asked rhetorically.

Although her tone wasn't especially harsh, Li-kun fractionally flinched. "Do _you_?" he countered sharply before recollecting himself. _Sharply_ was not the way Li-kun spoke.

Giving him a steady stare, Misaki wondered if it was a slip or if he had simply not yet settled on today's mask. "No. I wanted to look at the park, that's all. Last time I was here, it was too dark to see anything." Li-kun lifted his brows in enquiry. "It was a case," she explained, although her tone was tinged with irony. "Why are you here?"

If she expected him to react to being reduced to _a case_, she was disappointed. Instead his mouth quirked into the expected self-depreciating half-smile before he spoke. He was working hard to settle into _harmless student_ mode. "I was on my way to school, but somehow I ended up here. It's not on the way."

Misaki regarded him critically. It would be hard to maintain the façade of a university student unless he really _did_ go to classes once in a while. BK-201's presence at and escape from Alice's birthday party meant everyone attending had been screened for alibis. Li-kun's was impeccable, he had been with her and Saito for most of the night, yet red flags would have gone up unless he really was enrolled in school. "I don't think I know which university you attend."

"TUFTS."

That made sense. Exchange students from all over the world were commonplace on Tokyo's University of Foreign Studies campus. It also had strong ties with several institutions on China's mainland and Li-kun was, ostensibly, Chinese. It would be easy for him to blend into the general student population. "What are you studying?"

"International relations."

"Isn't that a graduate degree?"

He looked a little abashed. "Well, yes. My undergraduate degree was in international economics."

Assuming the undergraduate degree was real (Misaki admittedly had her doubts), he had to be in his mid-to late-twenties. "I suppose international studies makes sense when you travel a lot."

Li-kun blinked at her. He had entered into full harmless-student mode, which was absurd. By now he had to know that _she_ knew. Perhaps she wasn't the only one in denial. Misaki looked away from him, turning her gaze up towards the sheltering trees. She scooted over on the bench, freeing up a sizable part of it. After a marked pause, she heard gravel crunched under his feet as he approached. He sat down, perched on the bench's edge. She glanced over at him. His pose was commonplace and casual; elbows braced on his thighs, hands dangling between his spread knees, hunched over slightly as he stared straight ahead. There wasn't any hint of nerves in his posture or in his expression.

Perhaps that was understandable. Just as he was in harmless-student mode, she was in police-interrogator mode. _Nerves_ were not part of either persona.

"Y'know," Misaki said conversationally, "I've been trying to decide whether or not I have a boyfriend."

The non-committal hum he made in his throat to acknowledge her comment was painfully familiar to her. His eyes slid sideways at the same time he ducked his head, bangs covering the top half of his face to disguise the fact he was looking at her. For a moment Misaki flashed back to that first night again, BK-201 leaning his forehead against the wall after being shot, dark hair spilling over the top of his mask.

Her team made fun of Kouno all the time, but if anyone needed to have his or her detective license revoked, it was Misaki herself.

After waiting a moment to see if he wanted to say anything, "_Boyfriend_ may be too strong, though," Misaki continued, still without much inflection. "Possibly it was just a one-night stand. What do _you_ think?"

"I think," said Li-kun, his tone just as neutral, "a man would be crazy to let you go."

She smiled a little at that, although it was self-directed irony rather than genuine amusement. "I haven't discarded _crazy _as a possibility."

"You sell yourself short, Misaki-san."

It was what Li-kun called her, but it wasn't Li-kun's voice. It hadn't been since he sat down. _"_If it wasn't just for the one night, then _lover_ is the proper description."

Unexpectedly he demurred. _"'Lover'_ implies something clandestine. _Boyfriend _is better. A boyfriend can take you out in public." His head drooped further forward until his chin nearly touched his chest. "You deserve more than a hidden affair," he muttered, almost to himself.

"I suppose I do," Misaki agreed. "If I asked you to kiss me, _Li-kun_, what would you do?"

He raised his head to look straight at her, eyes flat and completely blank, face expressionless as any mask. "This is a public place, Section-Chief Kirihara," he said. "I'd rather do that where we don't risk a citation for public indecency."

"Kiss me anyway," she said.

He turned his head away, gaze again doing down. When he spoke, it was as if he was addressing his own feet. "Are you sure? There's no going back from this."

"It's already too late to go back, Li-kun."

"True," he agreed, the ironic tone that was so _not_ 'Li-kun.'

Standing up, he held a hand out to her. Although she put her fingers into his, he didn't pull her up. She had to stand on her own. He looked down at their hands folded together, then into her face. Relinquishing her fingers, he curved his hand around her neck and stroked his thumb under her jaw, the way he had the night before. This time, she could see; she kept her eyes open as he dipped in.

It felt like a first kiss, a little tentative and careful, lacking the desperate passion of the previous night. Yet Misaki melted into him again, following the arc of his body and trusting him to hold her up when her knees threatened to buckle. Her body knew him, all right. And it trusted him, in spite of his habit of shocking her into unconsciousness for his own convenience.

She was really going to have to discuss that with him

Later.

"I like your hair like this," he murmured against her mouth. "It makes me want to take it down." His hand slid up from her neck to smooth over her hair. Much to her irritation, even though she still felt the tiny crackles of static electricity when he touched her, it didn't affect him.

"So obvious," she grumbled, vexed with herself.

He chuckled, leaning his forehead against hers. "Riddles always are, once you solve them." His next comment was more serious. "Being with me is dangerous. There are people who know who I am, _everyone_ that I am. I won't always be able to protect you."

Misaki stepped away enough to look up into his face, realized her glasses were askew, and used two fingers to push them back into place. He refused to let her go completely, hands falling to her waist in a loose hold. "I can protect myself," she pointed out. "I can't let you know anything about investigations, though. Don't expect any tip-offs."

He shook his head, wry smile pressing against his mouth. "As expected from the incorruptible Section-Chief Kirihara. I will only wear a mask around you when I have to."

Her brows folded together as she gazed at him. "Are we setting parameters for continuing this-?" Pausing, Misaki realized she didn't know what to call _this._

"'Relationship,'" he supplied, the wry smile morphing into something warm and affectionate. Misaki just stopped herself from gaping at the change in his expression; she never thought anyone would look at her with like that, especially not a contractor. "If I'm your boyfriend, then _this_ is a relationship. If 'parameters' are what it will take for me to date you openly, yes."

"What do I call you?" Misaki asked, as she had the previous night. He kissed her again instead of responding verbally. "Li-kun," she murmured.

"That works," he agreed. "It will make it less awkward when I pick you up for dates after work. Saito-san will have questions if you start calling me something else, especially if it's a Messier number."

"Is it your name?" she asked, although she was pretty sure it wasn't. "Your _real_ name?"

His smile shifted back into _wry_. He didn't answer.

"Li-kun," Misaki said again with a sigh of acceptance. "Are we done negotiating?"

"I've heard being in a relationship means constant negotiations, but I have nothing to add for now."

"Well, then. I have to pick up my car. Shall I drive you back to your place?"

He raised a hand from her waist to her face, running a finger gently along her cheek. "I'd rather go back to yours."

"I – I didn't mean … " Misaki gathered her wits together. "I have to go to work."

"What are you doing after?"

"'After'?"

"We're dating, remember? I'm asking you out, Misaki."

Usually she worked ridiculously late regardless of how many hours she put in that day, dragged herself home, microwaved something that tasted like cardboard, stumbled to bed and got up five hours later to repeat the process. Misaki opened her mouth to say as much. "1800 hours okay?" she heard herself ask instead.

"I'll be there," Li-kun said. He dipped his head. Misaki thought he was going to kiss her again. Instead he spoke in the quiet deep rasp she associated with BK-201. "Wear the sandals, hmmm?"

After a blink, Misaki half-lowered her eyelids and gazed at him through her lashes. "Only if you bring the mask," she purred, or tried to. Although she had observed Kanami flirt many, many times, Misaki's own attempt came out more shaky than sultry.

His eyes widened, and to her surprise a blush ran across his cheekbones. She only caught a glimpse before he closed the distance, kissing her as passionately as he had the night before. _He likes the idea of the mask. Or the sandals? Or just going out with me? _She liked the idea of going out with him, Misaki realized somewhere between kisses. Eventually she remembered they were in a public park, and however little-used the trail someone was bound to walk down it sooner or later. She pushed at his shoulders.

Li-kun pulled back, his gaze hazy at first before an awareness of their surroundings seem to return to him. "I'll walk you to your car," he said. He looked at her with a fond smile. "I look forward to tonight."

"So do I," said Misaki, and meant it.

* * *

The end!

This thing didn't have a plot so it was hard to dig a conclusion out of it. :P

Thanks for the reviews, the emails, and the Livejournal comments. It was fun, and it's done. /Waves bye-bye to fanfiction/


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